A Love Letter To My Shoes
Hey Stud,
I’ve been noticing you for a while now. You seem like the shy type, not too aggressive but still ending up on the feet of many. Not that it was a turn-off. For the first time, I didn’t mind sharing something with others. And there are many, many others. I know. You practically dominate my Instagram feed. But like any 21st century stalker would, that’s just my way of keeping up to date with your polygamous ways. And to disprove any illusions of clingyness on my end, I repeat: I don’t mind.
I don’t know how you (and your box) fell into my lap – things happened so fast. One minute I was trying you on, the next I was handing my credit card with the words “that’s the last size 5” ringing in my ear, but that’s really beside the point.
I’ve been ogling you since purchase, wearing you solely in bed for fear of actually taking you out and getting you rained on. Why that’s a worry I’m not sure anymore, but just like love, I don’t have to be logical when it comes to you. The day I did wear you out, you were showered, not with love, but with rain. But in some The Notebook-like moment, I knew, we could get past any (literal) storm. (I would just have to really clean both you and my feet afterwards. It gets gross.)
You’re the protective type, too, and I love you for it. I’ve already envisioned, with the help of my NCIS obsession, so many ways you could save my life with your studs serving as my lethal weapon. I am given a constant reminder when I try to cross my legs and it hurts. But that’s okay. I know it’s for my safety anyway.
I’m not usually this crazy, nor this bold, even. PDA, especially online, is not really my thing. But I guess I now just realized why they coined the term falling head over heels. Obviously coined by a girl, obviously about literal heels. (It wasn’t though, on both counts – I just checked – but I like making general sweeping statements.) Anyway, I just wanted you to know I was thinking about you, planning on subtly mentioning you in an outfit post, but you deserve more than that.
I would like to go back to a story about your namesake, the one and only Valentino Garavani. I read that in partner Giancarlo Giammetti’s new memoir, Private, (to be released Oct. 15th), he mentions in the opening line, “I’ve always felt that my life began when I met Valentino.”
And maybe, just maybe, that’s how we’ll be too?
Or is that another sweeping statement we obviously can’t uphold? *clingy tear*
Love,
Alyssa
p.s. We look good together, don’t you think?
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